


Breathe

by Saber_Wing



Category: Avengers Assemble (Cartoon), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst and Humor, Chronic Pain, Drama, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Mush, Hiccups, Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:54:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22946632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saber_Wing/pseuds/Saber_Wing
Summary: “I can’t breathe. I can’t…”“Yes, you can. Look at me.” Steve cupped his cheek, tilting Tony’s head up. “Just follow me. Feel my chest. In, out.” Steve’s chest rose and fell; heavy, exaggerated. “Just like that. You can do it.”Tony struggled to match his lover’s movements—breath hitching, hands shaking.Hic.“Shh. In, out. That’s it, you’ve got it..."Tony, out of sheer frustration and a little desperation, sets out to cure his hiccups.He doesn't succeed.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 24
Kudos: 275





	Breathe

**Author's Note:**

> "Tony has the hiccups!" Prompt given to me by my very dear friend Captain Pandamore, and beta-read, as always, by the darling Bebedora. I'd link their profiles, but I'm too lazy right now. You both know who you are, and that I adore you <3

This was fucking _bullshit._

Tony had tried everything. Drinking a glass of water had been a bust. Holding his breath just pissed him off, and nearly made him pass out after _refusing_ to breathe for two minutes. He’d pulled on his tongue, which made him look fucking stupid, _and_ hadn’t worked.

Now he was foraging in the kitchen for a lemon, and for what? That wasn’t going to do anything either, why the hell would it? What kind of idiotic, backwater, essential oils-breathing fuck thought sucking on a lemon would get rid of the hiccups?

_Hic._

Tony growled, pounding on his chest with an open palm. Three PhD's, and he couldn’t cure _hiccups_. What the hell was all this brain power for? Why be a genius if his body was going to do what it wanted anyway? There was no science in this!

_Hic._

Science had _failed_ him. For the last time.

Tony’s chest heaved, contracting around the arc reactor. Shit _,_ that smarted. His ribs _ached,_ and he was so _done_ with this. The things you took for granted when you _didn’t_ have a hunk of metal lodged in your sternum. Fucking hell.

Tony grasped blindly for one of the top cupboards. He jumped onto the counter with an irritated groan when he couldn’t reach, rummaging around inside for a moment.

He didn’t find a lemon, but there was lemon _juice._ Same thing, right?

Tony slid back onto the floor, contemplating the vial in his hand. Oh, how far the mighty hath fallen. He shrugged. _Bottoms up._

It turned out not being as bad as he’d thought.

It was _worse._

Tony gagged the instant the lemon juice hit his tongue, and _fuck_ that was awful. _Shit,_ this was gross. It was a bag of sour gummy worms, ground into liquid form, and used to torment his poor, abused taste buds.

He panted for a moment, tongue hanging out of his mouth. Oh, God, this was stupid. Shit, this had better work.

He waited. Waited. Waited. Wait-

_Hic._

Well of course, it hadn’t _worked._ What was Tony, an idiot?

Feeling more than a little foolish, he stormed over to the sink, grasping at the spray nozzle along the side. He tugged it as far as the hose would go and sprayed the water directly into his mouth, contemplating what he could possibly have done to deserve how stupid this moment was.

The sound of someone clearing their throat from the doorway stopped Tony dead in his tracks, and he glared over at it to find Steve propped against the frame, regarding him with what appeared to be equal parts confusion and puzzled amusement.

Tony let go of the spray nozzle and the hose retracted without preamble, settling into the sink moldings with a metallic clang. He gargled his last mouthful of water, spitting it into the nearest potted plant with an air of disgust. “What? Haven’t you ever seen a man drink out of the faucet before?”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Is _that_ what that was?”

“ _That,_ my good sir, was whatever I claim it to be. I am a man of culture. I – “

_Hic._

“Ugh,” Tony growled. “Son of a _bitch.”_

Steve, the daft bastard, had the audacity to laugh.

Tony stomped his way over to the man, balling up both fists and placing them on his hips. “You think this is _funny,_ Rogers?”

“Sweetheart, we’ve talked about this,” Steve quipped with a gasp, wiping tears from his eyes. “They’re hiccups. You just have to wait them out.”

Tony screwed up his face into a mocking impression of Steve’s, voice dripping with disdain. “They’re _hiccups_ , you just have to wait them _out.”_

Steve rolled his eyes. He appeared to be making a valiant effort to _stop_ laughing, but like the horrible, insensitive deviant he was, he was failing. Miserably.

_Hic._

Tony pouted, crossing his arms over his chest. He hated hiccups. He didn’t want to wait them out. He wanted them _gone._ Right now.

_Hic._

Nobody told him what to do, least of all his own _Judas_ of a body. Science yielded to _Tony,_ not the other way around.

Tony fought to keep the grimace from his face. Clenched both fists to keep himself from gripping his chest. With his diminished lung capacity, these weren’t just annoying; they were _painful._ And while a little discomfort wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle, he would still very much like it to _stop._

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up, Capsicle.” Tony was forced to hiccup again – they were coming harder and closer together now, and this time, he couldn’t keep from wincing.

Steve, who was still an asshole, but an annoyingly observant one, picked right up on it. His face softened. “I’m sorry, love. I didn’t realize.” His brow creased with worry. “Are you okay?”

Tony shuffled his feet. “I’m fine,” he muttered to a spot on the wall, gazing at anything _but_ his boyfriend’s stupid face. And he _was._ This just reminded him of not being able to breathe when his head was repeatedly shoved into a tub of water by a bunch of overzealous maniacs. And nope, Tony was not thinking about that. Tony was Not going there, with a capital ‘Not.’

_Hic._

He gritted his teeth. Dug his fingernails into his palms. Tony was close to the windows. It was the dead of winter, and he could feel the chill seeping through them. Snowflakes were falling gently, coating the ground below in a thin sheet of white.

It was cold. Overcast. Far from the sweltering heat of the dessert. He wasn’t there.

He wasn’t _there._

_Hic._

Tony squeezed his eyes shut. Fought against the images assaulting his brain. He tried to take a breath, but his lungs were burning, his chest seizing.

They wouldn’t let him breathe. They must still have his head under, because Tony couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe. He was going to die, because he couldn’t _breathe –_

“Tony?”

He startled, violently.

Steve’s voice was soft, careful. When he finally managed to pry his eyes open, he had his hand outstretched, but he wasn’t touching Tony. He knew better than that. They’d been through this enough. “You with me, sweetheart?”

Tony wrapped his arms around himself. Gave Steve a jerky nod.

 _Hic._ Fuck.

Steve moved closer, fingers not quite brushing his. “Is it okay to touch?”

Another jerky nod. Tony was trembling now. Shaking apart at the seams, and he couldn’t _breathe._ He couldn’t -

_Hic._

His chest heaved.

“Shh, easy Tony.” Steve tugged him into his arms. Held him flush against his chest. “Easy. It’s okay.”

“I can’t breathe. I can’t…”

“Yes, you can. Look at me.” Steve cupped his cheek, tilting Tony’s head up. “Just follow me. Feel my chest. In, out.” Steve’s chest rose and fell; heavy, exaggerated. “Just like that. You can do it.”

Tony struggled to match his lover’s movements—breath hitching, hands shaking.

_Hic._

“Shh. In, out. That’s it, you’ve got it. Breathe with me, baby. In, out.”

Tony took a stuttering breath. Another. Then another.

Steve held him through the tremors. Through the stupid fucking _hiccups._ He just held him, without expectation. Without being asked. Tony could feel Steve’s heart pounding beneath his, and it wasn’t enough, not quite. It didn’t take the pain away. But it kept his feet on the ground, and that had to be better than nothing, because it was all he had.

After what felt like an embarrassingly long amount of time, Steve rubbed the back of Tony's neck with his thumb. Kissed the top of his head. “Okay?”

_Hic._

Tony nodded against his collar bone, winding his arms more tightly around Steve’s waist. He wasn’t ready to let go. Wasn’t ready for anything that didn’t include falling into him.

Steve kissed the side of his face. The curve of his jaw. “Wanna go cuddle on the couch?”

Another nod.

Steve gathered him up without a word.

Later, Tony would have time to be embarrassed. He’d have time to come back down to Earth. To beat himself up for not being better. Not being stronger. Not being _more._ He’d have time to think wonder when this would stop. Wonder if they memories would ever leave him in peace, or if he would always be reduced to this: a wreck. A hunkering, shivering mess.

Tony hid his face in Steve’s shirt, blinking back tears. There had to be more than this. He was more than what they’d made him. More than a man who’d been _un-_ made.

He’d remake himself. Tony was good at making things.

For now, he’d just breathe.

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally supposed to be fluffy. It was a sweet, innocent prompt I was given, because I wanted to write something, and I had nothing better to do. Then I actually started writing, and it occurred to me how painful hiccups could be for someone with a hunk of metal lodged in their sternum. And...well, you saw what happened. That's the story of how I took something as sweet and innocent as a case of the hiccups and made it angsty. This is why we can't have nice things. 
> 
> Don't look at me. I'm just the woman behind the keyboard. *shrugs*


End file.
